King Vogt and the Guardians of the Round Table
— by Mario Crescibene
I. The Battle of Lake Erie
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
II. The Quest for the Holy Grail
Interlude
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
III. The King of the Wind
Chapter 7. Sir Ramirez rode next to King Vogt, with the rest of the Guardians close behind, as they continued on their quest for the Commissioner’s Trophy. He was in a considerably better mood, having just unlocked the vision of the Holy Grail that granted all twenty-six Guardians and their king their golden ‘C’s.
Sir Ramirez glanced at King Vogt laughing. “So, I just need to let it come to me, huh? Well I certainly didn’t think the key to unlocking the Grail would be refusing a fight.”
King Vogt looked over with a knowing smile.
“One thing’s for sure,” Sir Ramirez continued. “I just hope we don’t get interrupted again on our quest.” He nodded toward the road ahead. “Those woods would be a terrible place to get ambushed.”
The road narrowed as the Guardians entered a dense forest. The trees grew so tightly together that they nearly formed a wooded wall on either side of the road, the leafy canopy reaching out overhead, dimming the light.
But then, as if Sir Ramirez’s words had summoned them, the wooded walls came alive: twenty-six Black Sox stepped out from between the trunks, thirteen to a side, and formed a human barricade blocking the road some twenty paces ahead.
The center of their ranks parted as a large figure wearing a black suit of armor strode through their midst, a white crown fixed atop his helmet. He lifted his visor and drew his broadsword, pointing its tip at King Vogt.
“King Vogt,” he bellowed. “You are known as King of the Land. But I am King Venable, King of the Wind. Supposedly, two of your Guardians defeated a patrol of my Black Sox as they searched for the Commissioner’s Trophy. Is this true?”
Sir Hedges spoke up proudly. “It is indeed true! Both Sir Messick and I made quick work of your Black Sox.”
King Venable shifted the point of his broadsword toward Sir Hedges. “Then we shall even the score! For even though our mission is to find the Commissioner’s Trophy, we have a code that no fallen Black Sock shall go unavenged.”
At that, King Venable slammed his visor down and raised his sword high into the air — and as he brought the mighty blade down in the direction of King Vogt and his Guardians — the Black Sox army surged forward.
The Guardians, caught off guard and trapped on either side by the wall of trees, quickly drew their swords and scrambled to close ranks. It was a frenzy of clashing steel as the Black Sox army collided with the Guardians, blades ringing off shields and armor. In the chaos, King Vogt was able to break away from the fray and find his arch mage, Carl Willis.
“Willis the Wise!” he shouted over the clamor. “I must reach King Venable — but it’s mayhem with fifty-two men battling in this enclosed space. We don’t have any room to fight walled in by these trees. Do you know of some spell or incantation that could take me and King Venable away from the melee so we could fight this king-to-king?”
The face of Willis the Wise tightened with trepidation.
“There is, sire. But you should not ask me to use this magic lightly.” He drew closer, his voice dropping low even as steel rang around them. “There exists a realm beyond this one — a place where things are not as they appear. Where time moves slower than it does here, and where the very laws of physics bend. It is called The Euclidean Stair. I can send you and King Venable there… but I cannot guarantee your safe return.”
King Vogt did not hesitate. “Do it. The knights can fight here. The two kings must fight alone.”
And so, as the battle raged on in the woods, the arch mage wove his magic — and in a brilliant flash of light — both kings were gone.
King Vogt found himself standing in what appeared to be a castle stairwell. He climbed the stone steps to the landing and stopped:
Before him lay an enormous enclosed space that looked like the inside of a giant cube. Stone platforms, walkways, and arches crowded its walls — each oriented in a different direction — creating an intricate geometric maze of architectural structures. Stairs connected one platform to the next: some climbing up, some going down, some running sideways, and some seeming to go nowhere at all.
From above him King Vogt heard someone yell out, “What is this place?”
He looked up to find King Venable standing upside-down on the underside of one of the stone platforms, looking around very confused.
King Vogt called up, “What is the King of the Wind doing on the ceiling? Did you get blown up there?”
Venable stared down dismayed. “It is you who is on the ceiling from where I stand.” King Venable’s confusion turned to anger as he fumed, “Where has your mad mage sent us? You’ll pay for this treachery, Vogt!”
At that, a monstrous eye appeared floating midair from behind one of the arches. It slowly drifted to the center of the geometric realm before addressing the two kings in a menacingly emotionless voice.
“Be quiet, mortals!” it commanded. “I… am the Eternal Eye: Surveyor of the Euclidean Stair. This… is my realm… and I see… all.”
As the enormous floating eye spoke, it rotated in the center of the geometric space, gazing upon the two opposing kings with penetrating indifference.
The Eternal Eye continued, “In this realm… no one can die… but only one of you will leave. The first to three touches escapes the Euclidean Stair… Those are the only rules… Begin!”
But as both kings hurried in different directions to try and ambush the other, the battle in the woods was raging on.
Both the Black Sox and Guardians forces crashed against each other within the wooded corridor. Each side attempted using different formations to try and break through the other’s defenses, but to no avail.
Three times the Guardians were able to withstand the Black Sox’s attack. But on the fourth, the Black Sox took a new formation, and the front line held their shields together — becoming an armored wall — and marched forward as one.
As the mass of Black Sox bore down on them, Sir Messick took the lead, rallying the Guardians to brace themselves. But as the wall of black shields reached the Guardians’ formation it stopped — and from within its ranks a strange sword was lifted.
Its odd appearance confused Sir Messick momentarily. He’d never seen a sword like it before: a curved blade, sharpened only on one edge. The long blade flashed — sweeping down in an arc — its razor-sharp edge slicing through Sir Messick’s armor.
“What manner of blade is that?!” he demanded as he stumbled back, wounded.
From behind the row of Black Sox shields rose an armored figure drenched in black. His helmet was as strange as his sword — nothing at all resembling the other Black Sox — for his helmet was adorned with a horrifying mask of a contorted face that lay beneath a dome that flared out wide at the neck.
One of the Black Sox called out, “Did you think we would come without some surprises? We picked up a mercenary from Japan along the way.”
With that, the Black Sox formation split in two to reveal the fearsome figure standing in the middle of the road wielding a two-handed katana as black as his armor.
“Behold! The Southside Samurai — 村上 宗隆 — Murakami!”
Back in the Euclidean Stair, King Vogt made his way through the disorienting structures searching for King Venable. It seemed that every time he thought he was climbing up a stairwell… he was actually walking down it. And just when he thought he was certainly on the ceiling of one area… it turned out that he was actually walking on the wall of another.
The dizzying maze made him even more alert, as he had no idea from what direction King Venable might attack. But just as he was turning the corner of a corridor, he found King Venable on the other side, broadsword already drawn.
The two kings leapt into battle.
King Venable struck first, bringing his broadsword down in a monstrous overhead stroke that King Vogt turned aside with a deafening clang of steel. The force of the blow drove King Vogt back, but he recovered and thrust straight at his counterpart’s black breastplate, only for King Venable to sweep the sword aside.
The two kings locked blades, straining hilt against hilt, neither king willing to yield. They broke apart, circling one another, slashing away — blades ringing and rebounding off each other — both kings searching for the opening that would win them a point.
Then, King Venable lunged, and as King Vogt deflected the blade, it glanced off his forearm. Suddenly neither king could move, frozen where they stood.
“Can you move?” King Venable grunted, his voice strained behind the black visor, his blade just barely touching King Vogt’s armor.
“No,” King Vogt answered through clenched teeth. “Can you?”
“No!”
And then, from behind one of the arches, the Eternal Eye appeared. It rotated until its enormous gaze fell upon the two kings.
“A touch… upon the armor of King Vogt… A point… to King Venable.”
“That?” King Vogt protested, unable to so much as turn his head in his frozen state. “That was barely a touch!”
“I hardly felt it myself,” King Venable muttered, no less bewildered.
“The rules are…” the Eye responded. “The first to three touches… escapes the Euclidean Stair. Those are the only rules. A point to King Venable.”
Then there was a brilliant flash of light — and both kings were returned to where they had started: King Vogt standing once more on the stone landing at the top of the stairwell, while far above him stood King Venable, upside-down on the underside of his platform.
The second round of the Euclidean Stair had begun. 0-1.
